There's an extension of the last post on my Fetlife group. It isn't, strictly speaking, a required read. Just a lowkey flex, and with it out of the way, let's dive deep.
How did I get the rest of the magic beans to buy my pet store? I made 3 more phone calls. The first was a red light, the second and third combined loaned me all of what I needed. There were two more people on my call list if they hadn't. I was a 23-year-old college and high school drop-out, a mom and a stripper. I had a list of people apt to be willing to loan me cash to pursue my lifelong (or year long, whatever) dream of owning a reptile store.
It would be out of line for me to share the specific thing my grandmother helped my cousin with, but it was by far less whimsical. I doubt she had a list had our grandmother not come through for her.
We could just stop here. I could just cringe over my younger self's entitlement, and I could go back to writing about my charmed life. But the universe issued another invitation to grow, and for real I want to evolve.
Let's probe the wet parts and cut away the necrotic tissue.
What if my cousin was my grandmother's favorite? What if she evoked the softest part of my grandmother's heart? What if my grandmother saw something of herself in my cousin? What if they bonded deeper? What if she loved her more?
Want to hear a ridiculous thing that caused me to seethe with jealousy? My top and one of my metamours have jobs that are loosely in the same broad field. Their jobs are literally nothing alike. Actually, let me rephrase that, they are exactly alike in the way that neither one of them work in the adult industry. One day I found myself contemplating how neither of them have to pause when asked what they do for work. They can each say, with pride, what they do without any concern of how it will be received. Then my imagination, normally a quality I consider one of my best, ran with that idea. It painted technicolor scenes for me of my top and his subbie smiling while talking shop and making friends with vanilla people.
I love my job. Most of the time, it evokes glee when a vanilla asks what I do. I only pause for a second before leaning in and saying something like, Do I look familar? I make porn. Do you watch a lot of sissy porn? You into pegging? Or I say, I kick boys, I make them cry and they pay me for it. Sometimes, rarely, if it feels unsafe to answer truthfully, I say, I'm a consultant. Politics. I'm having such a great time, I'd prefer not to discuss work right now.
Why would it bother me to imagine my top and his sub bonding over a shared interest?
Jealousy may very well be completely human, and totally normal.
Have you ever heard me suggest I want a normal, human, just a regular sort of life?
What if my top likes my metamour more? What if they bond deeply, passionately, with giggles and eye crinkles over their work? What if he likes her shade of blonde better than mine? What if she loves to iron, and has never sent a screaming email in the middle of the night over a thing that only existed in her imagination? What if he loves her more?
It is fully, 100% none of my business or concern. But if my thoughts get away from me, if they demand that I contemplate such things, I will push back. I will refuse to do anything but celebrate that my top has opportunities for companionship, for passion, for depth, and for an abundance of love.
And if I can't shake the noise with love and high vibes, I can always go kick a boy until I feel better.
I decided songs about jealousy were boring ..Prince is spinning, and I've worked out 3 times.
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